


4. The View from the Lake - Inter-Views

by Denise_Felt



Series: Inter-Views [4]
Category: Gerry Anderson's UFO
Genre: Erotica, F/M, No Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-05
Updated: 2010-05-05
Packaged: 2017-10-09 07:46:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/84719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Denise_Felt/pseuds/Denise_Felt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Doesn't a time eventually come when all pretenses are over?</p>
            </blockquote>





	4. The View from the Lake - Inter-Views

## The View from the Lake

  
by Denise Felt  2010

 

The trail let out into a clearing with the sunny lake in evidence beyond the rim of trees. She sat on a fallen tree near the edge of the water, looking out across the lake to the opposite shore. He wondered momentarily if she actually saw the lake – or if she was looking at something else altogether in her mind's eye. He wanted to ask her, but he wasn't quite sure of his welcome. She might not appreciate him intruding into her private thoughts. And he was determined to be on his best behavior.

 

She heard him approach and turned. Her cheerful smile went a long way toward helping him relax, and he smiled back at her, saying as he reached her, "This is a lovely place. Reality or fantasy?"

 

She chuckled. "Reality. It's the state park near where I grew up. We came here often as kids for family picnics and other outings. As a mother, I brought my kids here as well – to walk the trails or picnic by the lake. These days, it's my grandkids that I bring whenever we're up this way. Some things in our lives remain constant, no matter what else changes. This park is one of those things for me."

 

Straker admired her delicate, heart-shaped face for a moment before saying, "You don't look like a grandmother to me."

 

Her beautiful eyes twinkled. "Thank you," she said demurely. "I've been told I don't look my age. Which is a good thing – or I'd go into shock every morning when I looked into the mirror! It's hard enough as it is, because inside I still feel nineteen."

 

He seated himself on the log and turned, so that he could enjoy the view of the lake with her in his line of sight. "Nineteen? Really?"

 

"Well, not the way I actually was at nineteen, still trying to figure out what life was all about. But the adventurous parts – the zest for learning, the eternal quest for knowledge and wit in the world around me. Those aspects. I don't ever want to lose those and become old. Hemmed in by narrow thinking, or enfeebled by what society expects from a woman my age. Like you, I'm claustrophobic, and letting my mind grow smaller and narrower just won't work for me. I'd go mad!"

 

He smiled warmly at her. "I don't think you have to worry about that happening any time soon. You have one of the most flexible minds I've ever encountered. It's so rare to find your depth of wisdom paired with such childlike curiosity. But now that you've explained, I can see why it's so."

 

"Is it so unusual?"

 

"I think so," he said. "Most people tend to do what is expected of them at each stage of life. It's refreshing to meet someone who doesn't conform to any known societal dictate."

 

She grimaced. "I hate conformity. Boxes of any kind make me break out in hives. In high school, I was considered weird by most of my classmates, because I didn't fit into any recognizable clique. That is, until they needed my help deciphering the English lesson."

 

"And did you help them?"

 

She shrugged. "Sure. It was nice to be asked."

 

He stared at her for a moment, then shook his head. "You're more forgiving than I would have been."

 

"Maybe. But holding grudges is just like another box that crowds and confines you. At least, I've found it to be that way. So I just decided as a teenager not to hold any. It's been nice not to be hampered by all those weights over the years. And it makes life so much easier to enjoy."

 

"So, you've always been wise too."

 

She grinned. "No. Only about some things. Life has a lot of lessons that require you to live them before you can understand them. I've searched long and hard for life's training manual, but so far I haven't found it. So instead, I've become a really good observer. Because if you can learn from someone else's mistakes, then you don't have to go through them yourself. It puts you ahead of the game, in a way."

 

"I think you're amazing."

 

She blushed and shook her head. "Not really. I'm just practical. Why suffer if you don't have to?"

 

"Practical?" He chuckled. "Is that what you think you are?"

 

"Yeah," she said, unsure why he'd find that funny.

 

"Then what do you call all this?" He gestured to the park around them. "And your writing – is that considered practical too?"

 

She grinned, realizing what he meant. "Well, no. Not practical _exactly_. But my love for fantasy itself was brought about through very practical means."

 

"How so?" he asked, greatly intrigued by this glimpse into her thinking.

 

"Because victims of abuse have to find a safe place. Somewhere they can hide until the horror passes. And the safest place is usually inside their mind."

 

Straker was quiet for a moment. "I'd forgotten. It's odd, but I tend to forget that you suffered abuse as a child. You don't have any visible scars. I mean . . ."

 

"I know what you mean. I'm not paranoid, terrified of men, or antagonistic to strangers. I'm neither reclusive nor flamboyant, the two opposite ways of dealing with the same trauma. But you see, I've done something that all the shrinks will tell you can't happen. Will never happen to someone who's been through what I've been through."

 

"What? What have you done?"

 

She met his eyes. "I've healed."

 

As he stared into her face, he could see the truth of it – in the sweetness of her smile and in the unshadowed depths of her eyes. "How?" he asked, almost overwhelmed.

 

She looked out over the water. "It had to do with holding grudges, actually. I spent most of my childhood hating my father. Once I was out on my own, I didn't want that to continue. I wanted to be able to forgive him. Maybe even to have a relationship with him like I'd had as a very young child, when he would sit me on his lap and tell me wondrous things about the universe. So I decided to forgive him. Just like that."

 

"And it worked?"

 

She grimaced. "No. Only in the short term. Whenever the topic came up on TV or in conversation, the old anger and bitterness would spring back up and nearly choke me. It was a continual fight to stick to my resolution."

 

"But eventually it worked."

 

"Not without God's help. He was the missing factor in my equation. I should have thought of him sooner, really. I mean, no one knows more about forgiveness than He does. But once I asked Him to help me forgive my dad, the bitterness left. And I found that not only didn't I get angry when the subject came up, but I was actually able to discuss it calmly."

 

"Like now."

 

"Yes," she said, smiling at him. "And my father and I did return to the relationship we'd had from my early childhood. It was wonderful – and very precious to me. And it meant even more to me once he was gone, that I hadn't wasted those years."

 

"I still think you're amazing."

 

She shrugged, but looked away to hide her blush. "Thanks. But it's just being practical."

 

He grinned. "If you insist."

 

They were silent for a while, watching the ripples on the lake travel across its sunny surface. Then he said blandly, "And was it 'practical' for you to give me long hair for your latest story?"

 

She laughed, glancing at him from the corner of her eyes in a way that wiped every coherent thought from his mind. "Of course. Eminently practical. After all, I put you in the Georgian era. You'd have been out of place with short hair."

 

He took a deep breath, forcing himself into a semblance of calm. He'd promised, damn it. He could hardly fault her for the way he reacted to her. It wasn't as if she were even aware of enticing him. She had an air of innocence about her that he had never quite understood – until today. Her healing from the wounds of her childhood had gone very deep, leaving her with the freedom to interact with the world around her as though she were a child. Was it any wonder that she baffled him, intrigued him – tantalized him?

 

Straker shook his head at her. "If you'd gone another twenty-five years, you'd have been in the Regency era, and my short hair would have fit right in."

 

"True." She said no more, but her eyes danced.

 

"You're a fraud, Denise. Admit it. It wasn't a practical decision at all. It was pure fantasy."

 

She chuckled. "Busted!"

 

He grinned. "You're not even going to deny it? What was your motive? Why did you set the story then?"

 

She leaned back on her arms. "It was all Louise's fault. You remember Louise, don't you?"

 

"Yes. Another compelling writer."

 

"Yep. That's her. She came up with the idea of putting you in the Victorian era, pitting you against the aliens somehow in London of that time. And it made me think of how you'd be dressed, which made me consider how you'd look in other eras as well."

 

"I see. And you chose the Georgian era."

 

"Naturally. I mean, how could I lose? Long hair, brocaded jackets, lace jabots, high-heeled shoes."

 

"Hmmm. About those shoes . . ."

 

She giggled, and the sound made everything in him tighten with the need to take her into his arms and kiss that adorable mouth. He turned away, not without difficulty, and studied a nearby tree with great interest.

 

"I may not put you in the hands of enemies that torture you on a regular basis," she said saucily. "But in my own way, I still torment you."

 

"I've noticed."

 

She grinned, completely unrepentant. "But you handled the shoes so well! No whining. No whimpering. I was impressed. Truly."

 

He chuckled in spite of himself. "You're a minx."

 

"I'm –!" She faltered to a stop, glimpsing something in his face that gave her pause. After a moment, she got up from the log and wandered closer to the shore, her arms going around herself in an instinctive gesture he recognized. When he approached her, she said quietly, "I meant no harm. It's just a story."

 

"I know."

 

"You could always draw up some guidelines, you know. Things you don't want me to write about concerning you. Like shoes that don't fit."

 

"I could," he said. "But that would be putting you in that box, wouldn't it?"

 

She shrugged, still looking out across the lake. "Maybe."

 

"Denise . . ."

 

She turned suddenly. "I should go. I have a million things to do today. Deadlines to meet."

 

"Please don't go."

 

She met his eyes fleetingly, then looked away. "I can't – I'm not –!" She turned back to him and earnestly met his gaze. "I was wrong. Okay? I thought we could just talk. I thought it was enough to be determined to be just friends."

 

"I've seen how determined you are. But not everything works that way."

 

"No. It doesn't. And I'm sorry."

 

"Don't be," he said. "I agreed to this. And as you say, I'm not whining."

 

But she didn't smile at his witticism. "I'm hurting you. And that's hardly fair."

 

"I'm fine."

 

She shook her head. "Don't lie."

 

He sighed. "What would you have me say, Denise? That I want you? Yes, I do. That it's difficult not to reach for you when you're so close, so endearing? Yes, it's hard. But I agreed. Your terms. And I won't break that promise."

 

"It's asking too much of you." Not to mention what it asked of her. But she had been able to ignore – at least on the surface – the way her body reacted to his presence.

 

"It's better than the alternative."

 

She met his eyes in surprise. "What do you mean?"

 

He reached out and lightly skimmed his fingers down her cheek. "That you won't come here at all. That I'll never see you again – except in your dreams."

 

She stared into his eyes for a long time. Then she sighed. She was such a fool. Hadn't she known? Hadn't it been obvious from their first meeting that this moment would come? She'd only been denying the inevitable. She stepped closer to him, laying a small hand on his cheek, meeting his gaze, her olive green eyes serious. "I've loved you all my life," she said softly. "You're one of those constants, like this park. It's stupid to pretend I don't feel what I feel around you. What I've always felt."

 

He could hardly believe she was saying these things to him. He wanted to grab her close, but instead he said, "What about your husband?"

 

She sighed again. "Fantasy is something I'm only just learning to explore. Most of my life, it's been confined to dreams. Only in the past ten years have I allowed it the freedom to approach reality, in the form of tangible stories. Unlike me, my husband has always had a rich fantasy life. He doesn't have any problem worrying if his fantasies will offend or upset me. He knows I can't go there, just as I know he can't come here. And it doesn't bother him. I'm so tired of feeling guilty about wanting you. You're the only fantasy I've ever had, and in spite of everything I've written about you, I don't know what it's like to be with you. And I want to know. Outside of dreams this time."

 

"You overwhelm me," he told her huskily. And kissed her, plunging his hands into her curls to bring her closer still as she responded. He moaned as her body pressed against him, exciting every nerve ending. When he came up for air, he rained kisses all over her face, begging her, "Please don't regret this!"

 

"No. Oh, no! How could I?" she murmured breathlessly.

 

Her beautiful eyes were darker than the shadows under the trees, and he wanted to lose himself in their depths. He wanted to take her in one big gulp, even while he told himself to go slowly, savoring every moment. His entire body ached with passion denied for too long, so he forced himself to focus everything he felt into his kisses, letting her learn the taste of him even as her body learned the feel of him against her. Still, he was trembling when he finally drew back to remove his jacket.

 

He laid it on the grass near a tree and drew her down on top of it. She was trembling too, and he gathered her close, kissing her deeply while his hands learned the contours of her arms, shoulders, and back.

 

"Ed! Ed!" She was tingling everywhere from his touch, her nerve endings unbearably stimulated.

 

The sound of his name on her lips made him wild for more of her, and he yanked her top over her head to explore the treasures beneath. And grinned when he saw her bra. "Now_ that_ is a bra!" he said, running a finger down one thick white strap.

 

She blushed furiously. "It's practical," she muttered.

 

He laughed. "God love a practical woman!" he said fervently, admiring how well the bra supported her ample charms. "How do I remove it? Does it need a manual?"

 

She smiled at him, relieved by his humor. "It hooks in the back."

 

"Then what are these little things here?" he asked, and grinned as he unhooked one and lowered the flap. "Oh. I see. Very nice." He swiftly unhooked the other one, lowered its flap as well, then sat back to admire the results. "I have to say, I really appreciate your practicality, Denise."

 

The expression in his blue eyes made her breath want to back up in her throat, but she managed to say, albeit a bit breathlessly, "A shelf like mine requires solid engineering to support it properly."

 

"Shelf? I thought it was commonly called a rack these days."

 

"Only by guys."

 

He reached out and ran a finger just inside the exposed area of the bra. And she gasped as pleasure lanced through her. "So, tell me, Denise," he murmured against her lips. "Is this your fantasy? Or mine?"

 

"I have no idea," she said, drowning in the pleasure of his kisses. "Does it matter?"

 

He kissed her deeply, pressing her snugly against his chest and nearly groaning in the process. "Not in the least. Believe me – I'm not complaining."

 

"I am," she murmured, her hands running restlessly up and down his back.

 

"About?" he asked, nibbling along her jawline.

 

"Oh!" She sighed in pleasure, nearly forgetting her train of thought. "Um . . . your shirt. Won't you . . . ?"

 

He grinned and stripped it off, exposing his lean chest to her view. But when he would have taken her back into his arms, she held him off, running her small hands through the hair on his torso and making approving sounds in the back of her throat.

 

Finally, she met his eyes, her own shining like jewels. "Definitely mine, I think."

 

"Yours?" he asked, bringing her closer to see how she felt against his bare skin. This time his groan was audible. So was hers.

 

"My fantasy," she breathed, exploring his back, memorizing its shape with her hands.

 

He tasted the sweetness of her throat, feeling her racing pulse beneath his lips as he nibbled. "Oh. Alright."

 

"You have beautiful shoulders," she murmured, moving her palms across them as she spoke.

 

"I do?" he asked in surprise, momentarily diverted from his latest discovery, her tiny earlobe.

 

"Yes," she sighed, tilting her head to allow him easier access. "So strong. So – _oh!_ – powerful."

 

His hands gently kneaded her breasts through her bra, and her head fell back, allowing him to play as he would. "Do you – should I – ?" she asked when she could think through the haze of pleasure.

 

"No," he said on a groan. "I like it right where it is." And he proved it by lowering his mouth to the opening on one breast and taking her nipple into his mouth to suckle.

 

"_Ed!_"

 

He felt her startled release course through her body, and switched to the other breast. He desperately wanted to lay her back and end this now. But he was barely getting started, and he knew she would give him more. As her hands clenched and unclenched restlessly in his hair, he determined to take more. To take everything she would give him. He might never get another chance to hold her. And he didn't want to miss an inch of her. He felt more alive, more real than he'd ever known was possible. And he wanted it to last – a very long time.

 

She shuddered everywhere he touched her, her body amazingly sensitized as his hands roamed her torso and back, and his mouth continued its sensuous assault on her breast. "Ed! _Please!_"

 

His eyes met hers for a timeless moment; then he smoothly lifted her, setting her firmly in his lap, straddling him. She could feel the strength of his passion against her core, and shivered in anticipation. His blue eyes burned as he stared at her, not only seeing the fire in her dark eyes, but feeling its liquid heat in his lap through both layers of their clothing. "God, you feel so good!" he whispered, leaning forward to rain kisses down her throat.

 

She arched against him, uncaring if she seemed shameless. "Ed! God, Ed!" she groaned, her head thrown back, kneading his shoulders in her small hands as she pressed against him over and over.

 

He was so immersed in her fire that he was sure he'd carry scorch marks later. But he simply didn't care. He marvelled at the sight of her ecstasy, clearly visible on her glowing face, wanting to prolong this moment forever. She shuddered suddenly, caught in a wave of release that took her unawares, and he had to put a stranglehold on his own raging need to keep from ending their foreplay too soon. He wanted more.

 

When her eyes opened, their ferocity seared him to the bones. She kissed him, mating with his tongue tempestuously, and his heart exulted in this display of her passionate nature. He'd known. He'd known this wonderful, wanton woman dwelt inside her. And he'd unleashed her. God help him now! He grinned fiercely, running his palms across her taut nipples and watching her gasp and shudder in pleasure.

 

She met his eyes, quivering from head to toe from the rapture he brought her, and realized that he was in no hurry to finish what he'd begun. He was enjoying her reactions too much. Damn him. She leaned forward and bit his shoulder. Hard.

 

He jerked in surprise – and pleasure. As he gasped, his heart unlocked and spilled out, becoming hers in that moment. Determination. Yes. She had it in spades. And was the most staggering woman he'd ever known. He grasped the waistband of her leggings, meeting her eyes as he said huskily, "Am I going to find other feats of engineering in here?"

 

Her dark eyes were slumbrous, but her smile was wry. "Just plain panties, I'm afraid."

 

"Denise," he said, resting his forehead against hers for a moment. "Nothing about you is plain. Trust me." He gave the leggings a good tug and drew them off, her sandals caught up inside the pant legs as he set them aside and looked his fill at what he'd uncovered. She wore white panties that sat demurely at her waist, making her resemble a 1950's ad for two-piece bathing suits. She would probably say the panties were practical; but for some odd reason, he found them erotic.

 

"You are so beautiful," he murmured.

 

Her expression went from slightly flustered to wicked in a flash. "Come here and say that," she taunted.

 

With an answering grin, he moved closer, taking her back into his arms. "I love you," he said, gazing into her eyes.

 

Her smile faded into wonder as she held his gaze. Then her small hands came up to frame his face, and she said softly, "Oh, Ed! I love you too. So very much!"

 

He kissed her, fanning the glowing embers of their passion into white hot heat again. His lean hands roamed her torso, thighs, and legs, drawing groans from both of them. She shivered, then set her hands at the waist of his pants. "Let me," she murmured.

 

He groaned, taking her hands in his and bringing them to his lips. "Can't," he explained huskily. "Or this will all be over much too quickly."

 

"And the problem with that is . . . ?" she asked saucily.

 

His grin flashed. "There's more I want to discover with you."

 

Her breath caught. "What?"

 

He leaned forward, giving her bottom lip a teasing bite. "_Everything_."

 

For a moment, she couldn't breathe at the intense look in his blue eyes. Finally, she whispered, "Oh. Well then. By all means."

 

She was already trembling in anticipation, and he was dazzled afresh at her responsiveness. He unhooked her bra and drew it off her shoulders, then laid her down across his jacket to scatter hot kisses on her exposed breasts, alternately nuzzling and nipping until she was certain she'd go mad.

 

"Ed!"

 

Her hands were restless in his hair and on his shoulders, so his hand moved to the junction of her thighs and cupped her. She cried out his name at his touch, dampening the cloth of her panties further with her release. Her hands fisted in his hair, then dropped to her sides as she gasped for air, shuddering uncontrollably.

 

In a move that demonstrated how severely she affected his control, he dragged her panties off and plunged his hand into the curls he had uncovered. It was like immersing it in liquid fire, and he groaned, leaning over her to tease hot kisses from her lips as his hand called forth more fire from inside her. "God, you're amazing," he told her.

 

She was stimulated beyond the ability to form a reply, but she nonetheless responded by nipping eagerly at his lips in return, as well as rhythmically pressing her hips against his hand. When her eyes went blind, her body bowed upward for a moment before collapsing back onto the ground, trembling. "Ed," she murmured against his lips. "Please!"

 

Keeping his eyes locked with hers, Straker got to his feet and unzipped his pants, stepping out of them after toeing off his shoes. Her dark eyes widened in appreciation of his lean beauty, and as he came back toward her, her arms reached up to draw him into her embrace.

 

He kissed her deeply, slowly giving her more of his weight, so that she could feel how perfectly their naked bodies complemented each other. He groaned, she groaned, and he became aware of a yearning for completion inside him that he'd never experienced before. As if his body knew beforehand that she would fulfill him in a way that no one else ever had. As if she could make him a real man – even for one brief moment in time.

 

But when she lifted her legs, wrapping them around his hips, he drew back, laying his hands on her thighs. "Not yet," he said softly.

 

She quivered everywhere, needing his innermost touch more than she needed to breathe, and she didn't understand his hesitation. "Ed?"

 

His hands absently caressed the insides of her thighs, causing her to tremble even more. "May I?" he asked her.

 

"Yes! Please!"

 

But he shook his head, smiling tenderly. "We'll get there. I promise." He leaned down to kiss her to seal the pledge. "But first . . ."

 

"What?" she asked breathlessly.

 

"I want to taste your honey."

 

She met his eyes in shock – and finally understood what he had meant by _everything_. He wanted to experience her most secret place, the place no one ever kissed. The place where, once he had sampled, she'd never be able to hide from him again. He would own her – inside and out. She knew a moment of blind panic. She didn't want to be known that well. Did she? But as she gazed into his eyes, she saw that he was quite aware of what he was asking of her. And she could not help but remember how gentle he had been with her every step of the way – even to the point of asking rather than simply taking what he wanted. She shivered, her fear overcome by the promise of more of his loving passion. "Yes," she breathed. "I'm yours. I've always been yours."

 

"Ah, Denise!" he said, overwhelmed by her. He kissed her mouth, her sharp little chin, her throat, her breast, her navel, and finally, her curls. His eyes were like blue fire as he looked at her. "Thank you," he said, then lowered his mouth to her heat.

 

Sensations coursed through her too quickly to identify, ripping her out of the familiarity of the shady park she knew and plunging her into a humid, fiery jungle where colors were too bright and feelings were too raw. She cried out – in fear, in ecstasy – and clutched desperately at his hair as his mouth devoured her, demolished her – devastated her.

 

Her release slammed through her, leaving her shaking and sobbing his name. He gently kissed the tears from her cheeks, then held her gaze as he slid inside her.

 

"Ed!" she breathed on a luxurious sigh.

 

"Ah, God!" He quivered there, prolonging the moment – then he began to move, undone by her fire, torn to shreds by the passion she ripped out of him. Her wet heat engulfed him, burned him, caressed him to the point of insanity. Soon he was plunging madly, lost in her, and completely unaware of his surroundings.

 

She screamed his name, her short nails digging into his back as she arched one last time before collapsing under him, shuddering convulsively.

 

"I'm yours! I'm – !" The groan tore out from deep inside his chest as his release surged through him, flinging him briefly into a place full of light and sound before leaving him gasping and gathering her close, trembling and shaken.

 

He nuzzled her throat, feeling her pulse pounding through her skin. "God, Denise!" he groaned. "Stay here with me. _Just stay!_"

 

Her hand had been toying absently with his hair; but at that, it stilled. He met her eyes and saw the regret forming there, regret – not for what they'd shared, but that she couldn't stay with him. He touched his finger to her lips to keep her from saying the words that would end their time together. His mouth curved wryly as he said, "I only have one question."

 

Her gorgeous olive eyes began to dance. "Yes."

 

He was momentarily startled as he realized that she wasn't asking – she was answering. "I haven't even asked you the question yet."

 

"That's okay," she said, her smile saucy. "There are only two things you'd want to know, and the answer to both of them is the same."

 

His blue eyes searched hers for a long moment, then he said, "What questions are those?"

 

Her smile widened. "'Was it good for me?'"

 

Straker began to grin. "And the other?"

 

"'Can we do it again?'"

 

He burst out laughing – then gasped as he felt himself move inside her. She uttered a throaty moan of approval and brought her legs back around him, holding him firmly in place. Her eyes twinkled wickedly as they began to move together – slowly, teasingly. "I have to tell you, Ed," she murmured after a moment.

 

"What's that?" he asked, his eyes on hers as the passion built once more between them.

 

"You're The Man."

 

His grin flashed. "Then I guess I'll have to admit something to you as well," he said as he flicked one lovely nipple with his tongue.

 

She gasped, then managed to say, "What?"

 

He laid a hand on her cheek and stared into her eyes. "I owe it all to you."

 

***

 

Some time later, he opened his eyes and saw her putting on her bra. It seemed to take several steps, and he admired how deftly she handled it. "That is quite a contraption," he murmured sleepily.

 

She turned to meet his eyes, smiling softly as she took in his languid pose on the grass. "I told you: solid engineering."

 

"You mean it really was designed specifically?"

 

She nodded. "It's similar to how a suspension bridge is designed. See, most bras force your back to carry the weight of your breasts, which is why women suffer from backaches so much. This bra is created so that your breasts support themselves, which is wonderful news for your back."

 

"In fact, a very practical choice," he said, his tongue firmly in his cheek.

 

She grinned at him. "Exactly."

 

"Well, it's got my vote." He watched her pull on her top and step into her sandals. "When will I see you again?"

 

She ruffled a hand through her curls, and amazingly they fell into place as if she'd styled them. "When do you want to?"

 

He gave her a look that had her grinning. "Down, boy!" she said with a chuckle. "I need a nap now as it is."

 

"A nap?" His expression turned ornery. "Perhaps I'll invade your dreams."

 

She shook her head at him, still smiling. "I have no doubt that you will," she said as she headed toward the trail. She turned back as she entered the treeline and said sassily, "I'll see you then."


End file.
